


Next of Kin

by pocky_slash



Series: Next of Kin [1]
Category: Doctor Who
Genre: Backstory, Established Relationship, M/M, Period-Typical Homophobia, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-05-27
Updated: 2011-05-27
Packaged: 2017-12-15 22:27:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,336
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/854691
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pocky_slash/pseuds/pocky_slash
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Canton makes a decision. No one is pleased with the result.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Next of Kin

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to [](http://coffeesuperhero.livejournal.com/profile)[**coffeesuperhero**](http://coffeesuperhero.livejournal.com/) for looking this over and [](http://mcwonthelottery.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://mcwonthelottery.livejournal.com/)**mcwonthelottery** for putting up with my random, "So, I have this problem in this fic..." conversations while she played Lego Harry Potter. Takes place six weeks prior to 6x01. My take on Canton's backstory.

Canton had spent a lot of time in with the Assistant Director. There was usually a lot of pacing and words like "insubordination" bandied about--Canton hated the show of it. He went in. He got the job done. He didn't care how it looked on paper--he knew right from wrong and he knew what was really important. The rest of it, the records and the slaps on the wrist, was nothing more than a performance.

This was the first time he'd been called to Human Resources, however. He wasn't sure what to expect, pushing his nerves back to the far reaches of his brain and sitting motionlessly in front of the Assistant Director of Human Resources.

"Special Agent Delaware," he said, glancing up briefly and then glancing down at the open file on the desk. Canton flicked his eyes down momentarily. It was definitely his file on the desk, but it wasn't the list of demerits and unprofessional conduct he was used to seeing in this position. It looked like his medical insurance form.

"Yes," Canton said. He smiled his professional smile, which he may have purposely crafted to be as unsettling as possible.

"I was just reviewing your insurance forms," Assistant Director Summers said.

He didn't elaborate.

"Great," Canton said. He'd had his yearly physical a few weeks before. If something was wrong, the doctor would have called him first, right?

Summers shuffled his papers and drummed his fingers on the desk.

"I was just going over them," he said. Canton nodded as the awkward pause returned. "It seems--well. Everything seems in order."

Canton had a feeling this meeting wasn't just to inform him everything was in order.

"Good to know," Canton said. "I'd hate to get in trouble because I didn't fill it out in the right color ink."

"Right," Summers said. "The only problem is. Well. Your next of kin. He has a different last name than you do."

"Yes," Canton said. His stomach turned. "He's my roommate. He's always been my next of kin in the past."

"Yes, well." Summers shuffled the papers again. "There are rules clearly outlined--there have been some changes." Summers' ears were red. Canton remained motionless. It wasn't smart to go around talking about relationships that... didn't conform to FBI standards, as it were. He was circumspect. More circumspect than most of his coworkers would ever give him credit for, actually. But the FBI did some pretty deep background checks and things were bound to come up. After his exceptional performance in school and in training, the higher-ups were, apparently, willing to turn a blind eye. Well, that and his father's influence, he supposed. Canton had one non-conversation with Deputy Director Weathersfield about what would and would not be tolerated if Canton wished to remain in the FBI.

And, for all he chafed under the politics and the wrong-headedness of the FBI, Canton really would like to stay.

"Changes?" Canton asked.

"And, I'm sorry, but if this David Bishop is not related to you, I don't think we can, in good faith, list him as your beneficiary," Summers said. He wouldn't look Canton in the eye. Canton wondered if he was ashamed or disgusted or both.

"What does it matter?" Canton asked, carefully. He knew what it mattered.

"You know how it is," Summers said. "Regulations are regulations for a reason." Summers was so tense that he was likely to jump if Canton moved too fast. He held out a new form without making eye contact. "Please complete a new form and bring it back in tomorrow. That will be all, Agent Delaware."

Canton snatched the paper out of Summers' hand and looked at it, frowning. On the whole, he was getting off easy for his latest exploits. He knew that. It would be easy enough to list his father, who would begrudgingly make sure that David got his due should anything happen to Canton. This was barely even a slap on the wrist.

Somehow, though, as Canton left Summers' office, it felt like much, much more.

***

"This doesn't smell right," David said that evening when Canton explained the inexplicable meeting in the middle of the day.

"The pot roast?" Canton asked, even though he was well aware what David meant. David gave him a look.

"You know what I mean," he said. "I don't like this. I don't want to move again. I hate moving."

"It's nothing," Canton said. "It's posturing. They're pissed at me for that hostage thing last week and this is how they're getting back at me. They know I can't do anything about it and they want to watch me squirm." He stood from the kitchen table and poured himself another mug of coffee, leaning back against the counter and watching David taste test one of the pots on the stove. "Anyway, we won't have to move. And last time we moved it was your fault—you were the one who wanted the third bedroom."

"I needed space for my office," David said. He rolled his eyes. "The second bedroom in the old house was too cramped. I could barely move for all your books. But that's beside the point. If this gets out—"

"I know," Canton said. "I get it. Have I not been impeccably careful for the past twelve years? I'll fill in their forms, name my old man as next of kin and beneficiary for my insurance policy. I know how to play the game, David."

"I know you do," David said. He stepped back from the stove and sighed, rubbing his eyes. "It's just frustrating. Having to live like this. We should move to New York."

This argument again.

"Oh yeah, because New York is a magical place where no one cares what two men do in the privacy of their own home," Canton said with the resignation that comes from an oft-fought argument. "Besides, I thought you hated moving."

"I'm just saying," David said. "I could get a job in New York. You could get a job in New York."

"New York is a long way from DC and a long way from whatever influence my father has on how deeply the brass dig into my living situation," Canton reminded him.

"Sally could get a job in New York," David said, trying a different tactic. "Sally's a good resource for us."

"She's your sister, she's not a resource," Canton said, rubbing the bridge of his nose.

"She's both," David said.

"And it's not going to last forever. She's going to find someone she really wants to date—"

"She really wants to date you," David pointed out with a smile. "She just can't."

"David," Canton said, somewhat helplessly. He could hear the second hand ticking away on the grandfather clock in the hall. "We're not moving to New York. I'll do as I'm told, this will go away, and we're keep going the way we've been going for the past ten years. Are we done with this argument for the month?"

David turned off the burner on the stove and moved to lean next to Canton.

"Yeah," he said. "Same time next month?"

***

David was still asleep when Canton got up the next morning. His side of the bed was covered with articles and medical journals with tiny, cramped notes in red ink in the margins. He was working the swing shift, Canton remembered, which meant they probably wouldn't see each other for more than a few minutes at a time until his next day off. It wasn't ideal, but at least it wasn't nights.

Canton collected the books and magazines and left them in a neat pile on the table next to the bed.

"I'll never stop being surprised by the things I'll do for you," he said, shaking his head. He leaned over and kissed David's temple and then began to get ready for work.

***

"Delaware!"

Canton looked up from his desk. He was finishing up his new insurance form, filling it in with red ink just to be an ass. Harry Earley was a few years' Canton's junior, both in age and experience. Canton's co-workers generally fell into two categories: those that hated him flat out and those that didn't like him, but respected him. Harry was the exception that proved the rule. He'd taken a shine to Canton when he'd first started at the Bureau and continued to look up to him with something akin to hero worship. No one quite understood it, least of all Canton himself, but he tried to treat Harry with slightly less disdain than he treated most of his peers.

"What's up, Harry?" he asked.

"Are you still dating that girl?" Harry asked eagerly.

"Uh, yeah," Canton lied. He really needed to stop using Sally as a crutch, especially if he was going to continue to chastise David for pulling her into their messes.

"Great!" Harry said. "How would the two of you like to join me and Lizzie and a few of our friends for our engagement dinner?"

Harry was beaming. Canton personally thought he could do better than Lizzie, who was downright disagreeable, but he was hardly in a position to criticize.

"Congratulations, Harry," Canton said. "That's great news."

"I can't believe it," he said. "But she said yes! I knew the day we met, you know. I saw her and I thought, 'That is the most beautiful woman in the world. And I'm going to marry her one day. I have to.' I just knew that second. And I started talking to her and we just... connected. I never felt that way before, you know?"

"Yeah," said Canton, remembering a night in a bar where he wasn't supposed to be, an argument over a novel that was pretentious as shit, and everything that had come after. "Yeah, I know what you mean."

"We're thinking of going to Antonio's on Friday night to celebrate," Harry continued. "I really hope you and, uh--"

"Sally," Canton supplied. He didn't even wince. He was a very convincing actor.

"I hope you and Sally can join us."

"I'll give her a call later and see if she has plans," he said. He glanced back down at his desk, looking for an excuse to exit the conversation, and hesitated when he caught sight of the insurance form. "Hey, Harry," he said. "You and Lizzie have been together a long time, right?"

"Yeah," Harry said. "About four years."

"Right," Canton said. "And--it's okay if you don't want to say--but is she your next of kin on file?"

"Well, yeah," Harry said. "It was my ma, the first couple of years we were dating, but once it got serious, I switched it. She's my insurance beneficiary, too."

"Great," Canton said. "That's... good to know. Anyway, I have a meeting with Summers in HR. Congratulations again, Harry."

He was halfway out the door when Harry called out, hesitantly, "Hey, Canton?"

"Yeah?" Canton said, clutching his stupid form so hard it was wrinkling.

"The reason you asked--they're not... making trouble for you because your Sally is... you know. Are they?"

"Something like that," Canton allowed, and left the room quickly, before he could be the subject of anymore well-meaning but fundamentally fraudulent sympathy.

***

Summers was much more relaxed this time around. He had five or six other files open on his desk and barely looked up when Canton walked in.

"Ah, Special Agent Delaware," Summers said. "I'll just take that--"

Canton stepped back out of his grasp.

"Harry Earley has his fiancee listed as his next of kin," Canton said. "He's had her listed for years. She's not related to him."

Summers looked up. The anxiety was back. "Well," he huffed, "they're to be married. That's different."

"Okay," Canton said. "Then what if I married David?"

 _Huh_ , he thought. _Well. Now you've said that out loud._ It hadn't been his intention.

Summer sputtered several times. His ears were still red. He looked like he wanted to crawl into his desk and hide.

"Stop... stop wasting my time, Delaware!" he finally managed to say. "You're--you can't possibly--the taxpayers aren't paying you to sit around being _funny_. Get back to work!"

"Fine," Canton said.

 _Shit,_ he thought.

He threw the form in the trash on the way back to his desk. For better or for worse, this had escalated past an incorrectly filled in sheet of paper.

***

Canton got next to nothing done that day. He had reports to file and phone calls to make and a three inch thick stack of cases to review, but he was waiting anxiously for the phone call he knew was coming, either from his father or from the disciplinary committee. He thought about making his own phone call, but he didn't want to break the news to David over the phone unless he had to.

Maybe he was overreacting. Maybe everything would be fine.

"Delaware? Deputy Director Weathersfield wants to see you in his office."

Or not.

***

Canton was on his third drink by the time David returned from the hospital. He'd started out at the kitchen table, but was now sprawled across the couch, tie, jacket, and shoes abandoned to the floor.

"You do know it's only Wednesday, right?" David said when he came in. Canton pushed himself up on his elbows and gave David a half smile.

"Yeah," Canton said. "About that. I have good news and bad news."

David looked around the room and clearly zeroed in on the cartons in the corner filled with the contents of Canton's desk. He covered his eyes with one hand. "Jesus, Canton!"

"The good news is that I don't have to drag Sally to another dinner with Harry Earley and his obnoxious girlfriend," Canton said. He sat up properly.

"You promised, Canton!" David said. "You said all you had to do was play nice, but of course you couldn't stop your smart mouth, could you?"

Canton stood up and crossed his arms. He was too tired and too tipsy to deal with this right now. Sure, he wasn't always the poster boy for job satisfaction, but he'd worked damn hard to get into the FBI. It had been his goal since childhood, following in his father's footsteps, and he wouldn't have thrown it away for just anything. All he wanted was a little support.

"How is it fair, David?" Canton asked. "How is any of it--I'm just as good an agent as any of the rest of those assholes. I'm better! What the hell should it matter who I choose to spend my time with? How is it--"

"You know why the hell it matters, Canton!" David snapped. "It matters because I don't want bricks through our windows. I don't want to move, I don't want to go to prison and I don't want to be dead! I don't want you to be dead either!"

"You're missing the point entirely, as usual!" Canton said. "It _shouldn't_ matter, any more than it matters that Earley's marrying that shrew! He's marrying some gossiping, two-faced witch and gets to shout it from the rooftops, but I'm with a brilliant doctor and I have to pretend I'm dating your sister in public! Why shouldn't we be allowed to get married too?"

"Stop trying to turn this into a crusade, Canton," David said. "Yes, there's unfairness in the world. Welcome to America! But you don't care about that. It's not about being treated unfairly, it's about you not getting what you want!"

"It's about you, is what it's about!" Canton shouted, and the room got very quiet. "Wait, David, that's not what I--" And it wasn't. It was about David, but it was about David because it came time to make a decision and Canton had made one. _"They've backed us both into a corner, son,"_ his father had said when they talked that afternoon. _"You need to make a choice. I'll respect your decision either way, but I think you know which choice I think you should make."_ He had known, and he chose David anyway. He would continue to do so for as long as there was breath in his body.

He didn't know how to express that to David, unfortunately, who was marching up the stairs as Canton tried to approach him.

"I'm going to bed!" he said. "You're not."

"You just got home!" Canton said weakly.

"Good night, Canton."

David didn't slam the door, but he might as well have, as loud as the clicking of the lock seemed to Canton.

He sighed, and, despite the sick feeling in his stomach, poured himself another drink. It wasn't like he had anywhere to be in the morning.

 

***

It was around three that Canton heard the creak in the hallway. He assumed it was David heading for the bathroom, but the quiet knock on the door to the guest room proved otherwise. Before Canton could respond, the door swung open a crack. David was carrying the afghan from the end of the bed in their room, and as soon as he saw Canton was awake, he closed the door and joined him. He squeezed onto the single bed next to Canton, so they were both sitting with their backs against the headboard. David draped the blanket over both their laps without speaking.

"It occurs to me," Canton finally said, "that I don't really know how to do anything else. Which is funny, given I didn't really like being in the FBI all that much." It was a lie. Or, no, maybe a half-truth. Sure, he spent a lot of time questioning the regs and doing things his own way, but a part of him still foolishly clung to the belief in justice that he had cultivated as a young child, the respect for the law and the need to do what's right that his father had instilled in him. He hated filing reports and doing the Bureau's dirty work, but at the end of the day, if he managed to foil some scumbag's plan, he felt like he was doing some good, at least.

"You're one of the smartest, most bullheaded people I know," David said. "You'll find something. Maybe you could actually use your degree."

"Yeah," Canton said half-heartedly.

"Maybe you could go back to school," David said. "It would be fair. You supported me while I was in school."

"Maybe," Canton said.

"Maybe you could spend a couple months feeling mostly pissed and sorry for yourself," David suggested wryly.

"That sounds more like it," Canton agreed, but he cracked a smile.

"For what it's worth," David said, carefully, and Canton glanced over at him. He was focusing on the afghan, not on Canton. "I'm sorry. I know this is... well, if it wasn't for me--"

Canton felt sick with shame. He was such an asshole.

"No," he said, grabbing one of David's hands and squeezing it. "No, stop. _I'm_ sorry. I never should have said that. I didn't mean it."

"Still--"

"No," Canton said again. "I had to do one stupid thing not to fuck this up, but I ran my mouth instead. It's a character flaw I'm working on." He gave David a sheepish smile.

"It's not a character flaw," David insisted. "I'm sorry I said that. I like that you speak your mind."

"That may be true, but it's not winning me any favors in my professional life."

Canton sighed and tipped his head back against the headboard, staring at the ceiling. He'd done the right thing. He knew that. Sort of. But why did doing the right thing always end so poorly?

"For what it's worth," David said quietly, "if we could get married, I would have said 'yes.'"

Canton leaned his shoulder against David's and smiled as David's arm inched its way around his waist. Yeah. Okay. His life might not be ideal at the moment, but he was young yet. He had time. He could work with this.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [fly me to the moon](https://archiveofourown.org/works/206275) by [such_heights](https://archiveofourown.org/users/such_heights/pseuds/such_heights)




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